


Up In Smoke

by FrostedGemstones22



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22096543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostedGemstones22/pseuds/FrostedGemstones22
Summary: When Clarke found out she was pregnant, she immediately knew it wouldn’t be ‘baby makes three’, but more along the lines of ‘baby makes four.’--Bellamy and Miller are fire-fighters together. When Clarke finds out she's pregnant, Bellamy is protective but Miller is over-protective. He starts staying the nights that Bellamy has to work.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Nathan Miller, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Clarke Griffin & Nathan Miller
Comments: 27
Kudos: 401





	Up In Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bellarke Secret Santa!

MONTH ONE 

When Clarke found out she was pregnant, she immediately knew it wouldn’t be ‘baby makes three’, but more along the lines of ‘baby makes four.’ 

For as long as Clarke had known her husband Bellamy, Nathan Miller had been attached at his hip. They were just as close as brothers (if not more, to the point of when Clarke first developed a crush on Bellamy, she had this nagging fear he was in love with Miller) and were pretty much inseparable. As well as Clarke thought she knew Bell, Miller knew him in a way she never would.

It was something she’d made peace with long ago, and it didn’t bother her. She knew Bellamy in a different way, but she’d never begrudged him his closeness with Miller. The Millers had taken Bellamy in when he was a tender age of five, along with his newborn sister. David Miller had been the first officer at the scene after Bellamy had to watch his mother bleed out from delivering Octavia without a hospital, as they couldn’t afford it, holding his new sister in his arms. Something about Bellamy’s face had just broken him. He knew they’d go into the system, maybe separated, and likely have awful lives.

And David just couldn’t let that happen.

So, out of the worst of situations, a differently good one had bloomed. 

Despite a two year age-gap between the pair of boys, they were as thick as thieves. There had also been the fear, once Bellamy confirmed he didn’t have feelings for Miller, that they were a package set. That if you dated one, you dated the other.

In a lot of ways, that was true too. 

Their door was always open to Miller. He basically had a second bedroom at their house and he was listed as Clarke’s second emergency contact for everything. He treated Clarke like a sister, welcoming her without hesitation. Most nights the trio spent together, all watching movies or playing board games or just chilling. Though Clarke had never done anything romantic with Miller, mostly because he was very much into the other team, she sometimes wondered if they weren’t a sneeze away from a polyamorous relationship. 

So, when she got the news confirmed directly from her mother about the baby, her first thought wasn’t ‘I can’t wait to tell Bell’, but it was more, ‘I can’t wait to tell Bell and Miller.’ Bellamy first (husband privileges), and Miller second, though maybe seconds behind. 

Bellamy texted to say they’d be home soon from their shift at the firehouse, leaving Clarke with enough time to make dinner. They were always ravenous when they got back home. She couldn't remember the last time Miller had eaten more than three consecutive dinners at his own place. Clarke always made far too much and she worried about him, there all alone, ever since his boyfriend Bryan had left him. It was hardly an imposition. Plus, now that he’d more or less moved into a spare bedroom, he often turned in respectively early, leaving Clarke time to kiss and cuddle with Bellamy. 

And other things, thankfully. 

When the boys came home, Miller set about putting their coats away (Clarke had a thing about coats being left on the ground, like they were some sort of animals. Happy house equaled happy minds, right?) while Bellamy came up behind her at the stove. He pulled her against him, burying his nose into her hair.

“Mhh, smells good.” 

“I tried a new recipe today,” Clarke said, holding up the spoon to lick it clean, “One of my nurses sent it to me.” 

“I didn’t mean the dish,” Bellamy teased, moving her hair to the side to place a warm kiss on her skin. She could taste the lingering musk of smoke on his body, curling around both of them. The smell of fire both made her heart thud with anticipation (Bellamy was always most turned on after a difficult day) but also fearful.

She knew this was a dangerous job. She knew it would be all too easy to…

No, she could not think about that. Not right now. 

“Off with you!” Clarke said, turning and shoving him with a grin, “And grab plates and cups.” 

She turned to lean against the counter, watching Bellamy take down three plates and start to reach for three wine glasses.

“Oh,” Clarke said. She hadn’t imagined any specific way to break the news to Bellamy, but this seemed good enough. It had never been about big flashy presentations between the pair of them. It had always been soft, intimate moments. On the first date, when he’d kissed her, it had been in between Clarke ordering food and explaining a story about a med school disaster. When he’d proposed, it had been when they were watching Brooklyn-99 on the couch and Bellamy had just looked at her and said, ``I never want to live without you. Marry me?’. It seemed appropriate to the news of the growing family was equally as quiet, “Just a normal water glass for me.” 

“Thought you were off tonight,” Bellamy said, sending her a strange look. It was unlike Clarke to turn down wine, especially her favorite brand. After her extremely stressful days as an ER doctor, Clarke was the first to reach for it at the dinner table. 

“Suppose it will be water for me for a while...nine months at least.” 

The wine goblet Bellamy had been holding shattered on the ground. The sound of broken glass skittering across the hardwood floors hardly even registered. Bellamy was jumping over it in two strides, grasping Clarke’s face. 

The kiss was hard, fast, wanting, and soft all at the same time. Clarke had always known she’d wanted kids, but the desire to be a parent was unmatched when it came to Bellamy. He’d made it clear from date two or three that he wanted to be a father, that he’d always felt it deep inside his bones. It was a need that Clarke had fallen in love with, and many nights had been spent trying to decide it she wanted a kid with her blonde hair and his eyes or his dark curly hair and her eyes first. 

“Bell,” Clarke breathed, feeling his hands on her thighs, “It’s dinner time.” Her excuse was flimsy, however, and she was close to letting him take her against the tabletop right here, right now. 

“Christ, what happened?” Miller’s voice broke the pair from the kiss, “Guys?” 

Bellamy turned, his grin as wide as it could stretch. 

“Miller!” He said, holding onto Clarke still, “You’re gonna be an uncle!” 

Miller looked between the two. 

“What, for real?” He asked, “No. No?” 

“Mhh-hmm,” Clarke confirmed, touching her stomach gingerly. 

“Fucking hell, what fantastic news,” Miller said, and Bellamy waved an arm.

“Get in here, bro,” He said, pulling Miller into a three-way hug, and just for a moment, the trio stood there, breathing in contentment. 

MONTH TWO 

Clarke dropped her keys into the bowl next to the front door. She toed off her shoes, hung her jacket, and sighed out loud. 

She rubbed her head as she came into the living room. Bellamy and Miller were playing some video game, but whatever it was, the high-pitched ring whenever they killed an opponent was making her go crazy. 

“Oh, sorry, god,” Bell said, catching her face, “How was work?” 

“You know,” Clarke said as the pair of boys split apart to allow her to sit between them. Bellamy started playing with her hair, rubbing her scalp. She almost purred at the feeling, “The usual. A few broken bones from stupid kids-,” 

“Our kids won’t do that.” Bellamy teased. 

“Kids in plural? Let me get this one out first, Bell,” Clarke rolled her eyes, “And all kids are equally stupid. It’s the smart ones who we really need to look out for. Those are the ones that get in the worst situations.” 

“So your offspring is fucked,” Miller said with a raised eyebrow. Bellamy sputtered. 

“I’ve never been so offended and so complimented at the same time.” 

“-Besides that,” Clarke said, cracking her knuckles, “There was a dude who had a bloody nose that would not stop bleeding, a few car crashes, someone with a weird skin rash, and an elderly lady who believed her microwave was telling her to ingest hot sauce, which gave her ulcers. And that was just the memorable things of the day,” Clarke said, reaching for Bellamy’s glass of water on the table. 

“It’s always so interesting,” Miller said, chewing loudly on a bowl of Chex-mix, “We bring you cases and we just wave them off at the door. You see it through. You often don’t know the whole before, but we never know the whole after.” 

“I suppose.” 

It’s how Clarke and Bellamy had met. Three years ago, when Clarke had first begun working in the ER, Bellamy had come around, asking about a young girl who’d set her basement on fire. His concern had been the second most striking thing about him, the first being about how attractive Clarke had found him. He’d been the first fire-fighter on the scene and had promised the twelve-year-old trapped by the flames it would all be okay. 

“I just to make sure it was,” He’d said, face streaked with soot, “I made her a promise.” 

The girl had been fine, relatively speaking. A few third-degree burns, but she’d come out with her life. When Bellamy had come into the hospital room to see her, Clarke would never forget how the girl’s face had just lit up. 

_This is a really good guy_ , Clarke had remembered thinking.

She’d dated a firefighter here and there. Sometimes, they had a bit of an ego problem. Sometimes, it was obvious they liked fires far too much. Sometimes, they were about the fame and the glory and the people they saved were just faceless entities. Now, Clarke knew the entire firefighting system wasn’t like this, but suffice to say, she’d had a few very bad dates with a select few.

Bellamy had been so...different. 

She had stood there, like an idiot, watching him with this little girl. 

When Bellamy had left, he’d smiled at her, as any polite person would, and thanked her. He’d made Clarke promise to take extra special care of the girl, which of course Clarke would, as much as she could. 

And she had thought that had been the end of it.

Then, two days later, he’d tracked down her Facebook, asked her on a date, and the rest was history. 

“You feeling okay?” 

“Other than a headache, yeah,” Clarke replied, stretching out her sore muscles. It was no different than any other day at the ER. Most women hardly realized they were pregnant at two months, and it wasn't difficult enough to get through the day. She was often tired after shifts. ER doctors were going, going, going all day long. Truthfully, though, when Clarke did take maternity leave, she feared the prospect of having nothing to do would bore her to tears. 

She liked having something to do. She liked keeping busy. It was why the fast-paced environment of the ER had appealed so much to her. 

She thought maybe that’s why she and Bell had clicked. They were both rather adventure, adrenaline seekers. 

And that might also be the creation of this little one. They enjoyed getting kinky in strange places probably more than the average couple. While they hadn’t been trying, they also weren’t being very safe. Clarke did recall a few situations about two months ago that included a list of places that were as safe as their bedroom here, but alternatively also as wild as a phonebooth at two A.M. or a dressing room at a high-end department store. 

So, yeah. 

Thankfully, Clarke wasn’t sure when the exact date of his or her conception was, because Bell was already making awful jokes about names. That they should call their kid Ringer or Valentino. 

Clarke could just imagine the conversation. 

“Hey mom, why did you pick my name?”

“Well, Balenciaga, it’s because mommy and daddy just couldn’t wait to get it on and you were probably created upon a pile of shoes.” 

Yikes, right? 

She was pretty much done with those jokes, though she had to admit, they were a little funny. 

“Damn, out of mix,” Miller grumbled, getting up to raid their kitchen. 

“You sure it’s not too much yet?” 

“No, Bellamy,” Clarke said, poking his stomach, “I can still work. I’m absolutely fine. It’s hardly the first trimester.” 

“Just making sure,” Bellamy said, kissing her knuckles. 

“Out of Chex. Can I open these Gardettos?” Miller called from the kitchen, shaking a bag. 

“Go for it, dude,” Bellamy yelled back.

From all the way in the kitchen, as Miller popped the package, the unmistakable stench of garlic wafted through the air.

Clarke threw her hand over her mouth immediately. She jumped over the couch to get to the toilet, two seconds before she could hold it in any longer. 

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice was panicked. 

“Ugg, garlic,” Clarke groaned, pressing her cheek to the rim of porcelain, “Morning sickness,” She pouted. 

“But it’s seven P.M.,” Miller asked, furrowing his brows. 

“Common misconception. You get sick all the damn time,” Clarke replied, feeling another rising wave of puke. 

“So, lemme get this straight,” Miller said, leaning on one side of the threshold while Bellamy held her hair back and patted her back gently, “You can look at blood, oozing pus, and god knows what sort of other fluids and feel dandy, but garlic makes you vomit?” 

“Miller?” Clarke said, raising her face from the bowl. 

“Yeah?” 

Whatever witty comeback she’d had queued on the tip of her tongue was interrupted by the third round of nausea. All she could manage was a stern middle finger in his direction, with Bellamy laughing wildly in the background. 

MONTH THREE 

Clarke placed her hand on her stomach, turning around to see herself from different angles in the bedroom mirror. If she stood straight on, one might miss it.

However, when she turned to the side, it became obvious. 

She was starting to show.

A bubbling feeling of ultimate glee and giddiness overtook her with such swiftness, she wondered if she was going crazy. 

To see that one to two-inch of rounded stomach peeking over the edge of her shorts, and the definitive outline when she rolled her shirt down and pulled it taught around it, was one of the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen.

It was still small enough to hide. If she wore a simple shirt, nothing too baggy even, chances are no one would even notice. It was only if she started walking around town in stretchy tank tops or tees a size too small that someone might catch on. And, that’s if they didn’t just think she had eaten a big lunch in the previous hours of the day.

But this was a consistent bump. It had been here for the last week, telling Clarke too it was not merely an extra-sized heaping of dinner. 

Beneath her fingers was her tiny baby, growing day by day. Hers and Bellamy’s. 

“You still want me to drop you off at…” Bellamy began, wandering into their bedroom, his keys jangling on his finger. His question dropped off entirely when he saw Clarke with her shirt rolled up, her hand on her stomach. 

While his eyes had been going straight to her breasts of late (which were, indeed, slightly bigger), they dropped right to her hands today. 

He threw his keys on the bed, kneeling at Clarke’s feet. 

“Wow…” He breathed out, “You’re starting to show.” 

“Just a little,” Clarke said, “Crazy to imagine, huh?” She was a doctor. The miracle of life should have seemed rather usual to her. She saw people in states of pregnancy and/or early childhood often enough. Still, the idea that it was happening inside of her was mind-boggling and equally terrifying. All of her readings upon the subject was not always helping her in this situation, but sometimes worrying her. Sometimes, Clarke just wished she could shut off her brain. 

Still, though, it was moments like this, when Bellamy stared at Clarke like she hung the stars in the sky, that it made it all worth it. 

“Hey there kid,” Bellamy whispered, his voice soft, “It’s your dad.” 

Bellamy had talked about the baby before, but this was the first time that he’d talked to it directly. It was the first sign they had, other than about twelve pregnancy tests and Clarke’s unending sickness. This, however, was something palpable. When they touched her stomach, they could feel the tautness and rub the curvature and know that there was something more there. 

“I don’t know if you’re a boy or a girl and I don’t care. I love you a lot already,” Bellamy said. 

Clarke had warned him that, before the second trimester, many things could happen. There was a good chance that they’d lose this baby due to no fault of their own. Sometimes it just didn’t work out. 

It would be hard to take those feelings back now, however. Clarke had no doubt that Bellamy had loved this mostly unformed and unnamed child since the moment it came into existence, and even before that. She believed that Bellamy truly loved the platonic idea of any child between the pair of them. 

God, he was going to make such a good father. 

“Think you can go easier on your momma?” Bellamy was saying, “She’s nauseous all the time because of you.” 

“Bell,” Clarke intoned, “Hopefully I'll be over it soon enough.” It was almost to the second trimester. She’d heard a lot of women felt much better by then. 

“Gotta put in some effort for you, babe,” Bellamy said, standing, “I want both of my girls to be in tip-top shape.” 

“You’re so sure it’s a girl?” Clarke quirked an eyebrow. 

She didn’t believe in all those wives' tales about determining gender. She was a doctor that hailed to the higher god of technology, like ultrasounds. She was waffling between what she thought she might prefer. Obviously, she would love it either way, but right now she was in the phase where a boy sounded better.

“I just sorta decided,” Bellamy said with a gentle laugh, “Dunno what brought it on, but yeah, I’m betting on a girl.” 

“Oh, really?” 

Bellamy’s hand is starting to travel up her shirt. He has that look in his eyes, the one that makes Clarke go dizzy and her heart thump fast.

“Fifty on a boy.” 

Bellamy whips around.

“Jesus Christ, Miller. How long have you been skulking around?” He asks. Clarke places a hand over her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing, seeing Bellamy with his hackles raised and his heart racing. 

“Long enough to hear you so wrongly decide what this little Blake is going to be,” Miller says, “Dude. Not trying to cockblock you… I mean, you already got her pregnant, but Cap is gonna freak if we’re late again.” 

“Damn it. Work,” Bellamy winces. 

“Yep.” Miller pops the ‘p’ off his voice, “And you left me alone in the car without A/C. Like some sort of dog. You were supposed to just pop up here to ask if Clarke still wanted to be dropped off at Raven’s.” He turned to Clarke, “So, do you want to be dropped off at Raven’s?” 

“Yes, yes.” Clarke grabs her shirt off the bed, throwing it on to finish her outfit, “Thank you.” 

Miller fishes the keys off the bed, nodding in slightly awkward acknowledgment. 

“Keeping it real.”

MONTH FOUR 

Clarke was entirely prepared for Bellamy to be protective. Protective may as well be his middle name. He was a firefighter, for goshdarn sake! She knew that once he’d really started to internalize about the news about his upcoming bundle of joy, he would be impossible.

Oh, and he was.

It started somewhere around Month Five.

“Clarke, are you sure you should be lifting that?” 

“Bell, it’s a glass vase for flowers.” 

“Yeah, but it could break and it could hurt your stomach!”

Or…

“Jesus, Clarke! Let me!” 

“I’m frying up dinner.” 

“Yes, and the oil could splatter and you could get burned and-,” 

Yeah, Clarke was pretty done with all of that. 

What Clarke had not expected in the slightest was how utterly equal Miller was in his protection.

She knew Miller was a protective guy too, that wasn’t a huge surprise. She just thought that he, as he was the one that was usually Mr. Chill, would take it better.

Err...surprise? 

Miller was protective in other ways, however. He might not balk at the thought of Clarke carrying minorly heavy things or getting hurt from day-to-day activities, but he refused to let her drive, was almost possessed about her diet, and was the first to make sure that she was getting the right vitamins day-to-day. 

She really did feel as though she had two husbands looking after her.

In quiet moments, she considered this wasn’t so bad. It was borne out of love. This baby, boy or girl, would basically have two fathers- or a father and a very involved Uncle- in case things went bad. After Clarke’s dad died, she only had her mom. Pretty much no one else. She prayed that her baby would never feel as left stranded with their feelings. If anything were to happen to one of them, they’d still have two others to turn to.

This is what led her to perhaps the most extreme form of protection.

On a Saturday, when Clarke assumed she had the house all to herself, she heard the door open. 

Miller and Bell worked all their shifts together. It had been that way since school, and once they were put on the same force, it didn’t stop then. She’d long ago gotten used to it. Besides, on the days they were gone, Clarke really got the chance to enjoy herself, like take extra-long showers or read a book.

She checked her phone first. Clarke didn’t usually misrecall a scheduling error, but it had happened on occasion.

No, they were both supposed to be there.

Bellamy kept a gun under his bed. Clarke had only touched it twice; once while cleaning and found it the first time, the other to practice her aim at a range. She’d never needed to reach for it otherwise.

Usually, she’d just call 9-1-1. But it was different tonight. She had a baby to care about. She was not going to be a statistic about in-home murders! 

She crept downstairs carefully, trying to steady her breathing. She’d been a fair shot. She could absolutely do this. 

She rounded the corner, gun off safety, finger on the trigger…

“Miller! What the hell?” 

Clarke dropped the gun on the table. 

Miller jolted, seeing the firearm and his face going white.

“Were you going to shoot me?” 

“I dunno! Maybe!” Clarke flubbed, “What...what are you doing here.” She looked for Bellamy behind him, but found none, “Oh god! Is it Bell? Is he okay? You’re here to have me identify a body or-,” 

“No! No!” Miller grasped her shoulders, rubbing comfortingly, “I should have called. I should have…” He said, shaking his head.

Clarke clicked the gun to safety, “Yes. Probably. Nate...what are you doing here?” Exhaustion tinged her voice. 

“Well,” Miller said, grabbing the gun gingerly away from her, “I’m your protector.” 

Clarke wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline or the tiredness that made that sentence make zero sense. “Come again?” 

“Bellamy felt weird about you being here all alone whenever we were on shift. But he needs money with a baby coming far more than I do, let’s be real, I mooch of you two for about half of my needs.” 

“True, but...I’m still not…” 

“I switched shifts. It took a bit to convince the Cap, but now...I dropped a few shifts and took some other ones. Any nights that Bell is on, I’m here.” 

“But you always work together. You’re each other’s seconds.” Clarke shook her head. 

“We were, true,” Miller said, “But you’re more important to both of us. This baby is.” Miller said. He paused, letting Clarke catch up, and then laughed, “But, apparently, in case of an invasion, you would have just shot someone.” 

“I’m fine, Miller! You don’t need to be looking after me.” Clarke crossed her arms, “I feel like Bellamy needs you more than I do. I can protect myself,” she said with a sense of finality. 

Miller stifled a laugh, “Clarke?” 

“Yeah?” 

“There are no bullets in the gun.” 

  
  


MONTH SIX 

It was one of the nights Bellamy was on. Miller was here, per his promise. 

In fact, it was a trouble to get him to leave. He stayed, like some solemn guardian angel, through the nights. 

It was nice to have him there. 

She didn’t want to admit it, but the nights that Bellamy was gone was the worst.

It was one thing to have Bell gone during the day time. She could somehow get over that one. It was like nothing bad could happen in the day (which she knew to be a lie, because he wouldn’t be needed if bad things only occurred at night), but it was easier to distract herself. The nights that Bellamy was gone were the worst. She just imagined every bad thing happening to him. 

She wished she could blame it on the hormones, but it wasn’t even that. Okay, maybe it was part of that. She was warned she would have vivid dreams while pregnant. She wished that maybe they were about her father, who she missed so terribly, but mostly, they were about Bell dying. If there was a worst-case scenario out there, god, Clarke had thought of it. 

So, yes, it was nice to have Miller there.

Miller was available to soothe all her fears about Bellamy. 

“He’s probably doing something boring as shit right now,” He said, “Like rescuing a cat from a ledge.” 

“At 3 A.M?” 

“Cats have no sense of time.” 

Clarke did not entirely believe him, but she could, for the sake of her poor soul. 

There were nights where it was just overwhelming to her, though, where she was sure that she was a call away from the worst news of her life. On those nights, her and Miller would curl up on the couch and watch Netflix until Bellamy got home. Clarke was used to weird hours anyway, and though Bellamy griped about her getting no sleep, she’d rather be assured he was okay than fall asleep with these weird feelings.

Tonight they were watching a new CSI or something. It was weird. One would think that Clarke would want to watch something casual, something funny. That watching episodes of this would give her worse anxiety. Somehow, she was able to separate fiction from truth and watching this was perfectly fine. Besides, Miller was a riot. He’d sit next to Clarke and tell her all the ways this show was totally unrealistic. 

Somewhere between tracking down the bad guy and another monologue, Clarke fell asleep. She hadn’t realized she was so tired until she was drifting off into the couch cushions.

She woke when it was still dark out. She was turned toward the TV still and could see the blinking clock, which informed her it was nearly four A.M.

She realized belatedly what woke her.

Miller was talking.

Not to her, she came to be aware of two seconds later, but to the baby.

He wasn’t even talking, he was more just, reciting. 

“-He hath

borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how

abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at

Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know

not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your

gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,

that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one

now, to mock-”

Clarke realized that Miller was not aware that Clarke was awake. She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

Hamlet. Miller was reciting Hamlet’s monologue to the baby.

She knew that Miller was a secret theater nerd. She’d seen all the bad pictures of him in stage productions from High School, something Bellamy had little interest in. Bellamy was a nerd, but a nerd of entirely different kind. Out of all the things to like, Miller liked Shakespear. He was pretty good at acting, but he’d chosen firefighting instead. 

Clarke often wondered if he had more time if he’d be joining a thespian group in town. She sort of wished he did now. He spoke with such a sureness. It had probably been years since he’d been required to know this, but he spoke as though he’d been Hamlet in his junior year just yesterday. 

There was something soothing about it, listening to him whisper in quiet tones. 

She was not sure how long he would have continued, perhaps indefinitely, had she not sneezed.

Miller stopped instantly. 

“That was great, Miller.” She said, “With Bellamy reading it Greek Myths and you reciting Hamlet, it’s going to come out a little librarian,” Clarke chuckled. 

“Sorry, I-,” 

“No, don’t apologize. It’s nice,” Clarke said, sitting and stretching out. She yawned, groggy and sleepy, “It’s cute.” 

“It keeps me feel safe.” Miller admitted after a long second, “Shakespear hasn’t changed in years. It makes me feel grounded. You fall asleep quite a bit waiting for Bellamy.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mhh,” Miller said, “It’s not just Hamlet. I’m pretty sure that that baby will hear almost all of you Shakespear’s biggest plays by the time it’s born.”

Clarke rested her head on his shoulder, “It’s lucky to have an Uncle like you.” 

  
  
  


MONTH SEVEN 

Clarke woke up with only one thought...something was very, very wrong.

Not the wrong she felt about Bellamy, the fear that clutched her while he worked. Not the sort of fear that kept her up at night with Miller waiting for his safe return.

No, this sort of feeling was something more instinctual, something deep inside of her.

The baby.

She threw on slippers and ran into Miller’s room, shaking him awake. 

“Miller! Miller,” She blubbered, near inconsolable.

Miller, who was used to waking at the slightest sign of trouble, jolted awake, “Clarke, hell, what’s the matter?” 

“There’s something wrong...the baby...I’m not sure!” 

“We need to go in right now,” Miller said, refusing to pause even for a second. He was dressed in record time, Clarke was still in her lounge clothes.

She pressed her hand to her stomach, willing everything to be okay. She hadn’t felt it kick all day, she realized, and her fear clutched her without restraint. 

Miller drove her, albeit pretty badly, to the ER. Had she been of right mind, she would have been giving him all sort of shit for being a generally awful driver who didn’t stop completely at stop signs and sort of speed. 

“Clarke, my god, are you all right?” One of her co-workers spotted her instantly.

“I just feel...there’s blood...something’s wrong,” Clarke sputtered, unable to articulate anything more.

“She woke up just with a bad feeling. I dunno, I just…” Miller shook his head. He’d been trying to get a hold of Bellamy, but with no luck.

Clarke’s co-worker spotted his little fire-fighter pin on his jacket. 

“I’m going to take Clarke back. You coming, Daddy?” 

Clarke’s co-workers had actually never met her husband. Sure, she had pictures of him she carried, but being an ER doc, she didn’t have an office that most people came to. She came to the realization the same time that Miller did that this person entirely assumed this was Bellamy. 

“Oh, I’m not-,” 

“Just come back with me,” Clarke said, grasping his hand. She feared that they might not let Miller back if they knew and Clarke could not go through this alone right now. Her eyes willed him to shut up and just stay quiet.

Miller gave a long sigh.

“Yes, I’m coming.” He sent something furiously through text, probably to Bellamy. 

They asked Miller a lot of questions about Clarke. And because he more or less lived with Clarke and Bellamy, he just sort of knew them. As far as fake-husbands went, Miller was actually doing better than normal husbands, who sometimes didn’t know the basics about their wives in panic situations. 

Clarke had to give him credit. His acting skills were finally being put into good use. 

More than just knowing things, he was acting as the perfect husband. Most of it was true, Clarke was sure. It was just a little more touching than usual, but the heart of it was what he always did. He rubbed Clarke’s hair, he whispered quiet assurances, he ran his fingers of her knuckles. He looked like the most perfect husband. 

As they had a quiet moment, and the nurse left to get the doctor, Clarke let out a watery laugh.

“The nurse thinks you’re hot.” 

“What?” 

“I can tell. I’ve worked with her enough to know when she thinks someone coming in is good looking,” Clarke informed him.

“Well, unfortunately, she’s...lively. I bat the other way, you very well know.” Miller snorted, looking back, pushing his beanie higher on his head. 

“For the best,” Clarke said. She was trying to distract herself from her panic, “If you didn’t and you were trying to flirt with her, you’d look like the ultimate sleeze husband.” 

“That’s true.” Miller agreed. 

The doctor, more of an acquaintance than a friend of Clarke’s, greeter Miller with a ‘Mr. Blake’. He took it like a champ, as though he’d been ‘Blake’ all his life. 

“You were right to trust your gut,” The doctor turned to Clarke. She knew that Clarke would hate beating around the bush, “You have some very high blood pressure right now.” 

“God,” Clarke breathed. It had been a little high at her last check-up, but as the doctor told her the numbers, Clarke felt faint. 

“She’ll be okay, though?” 

“Just take it easy until the baby’s here. You’ll make sure of that, right daddy?” 

“Yes, of course,” Miller replied without pause.

If Bellamy and Miller were close to insufferable about their worrying over her, there’d be no end to it now. 

As Clarke was her shoes and clothes back on, there was some commotion outside.

“That’s my wife in there!” 

“Oops. Forgot to text Bell,” Miller winced. 

Bellamy blew into the room like a hurricane, eyes wild. He grabbed Clarke, who was repeating ‘I'm fine’ over and over and over again. He kissed her hard, to the shocked noise of the nurse behind them.

“If that’s your husband,” The nurse sputtered, pointing at Bellamy, “Who’s this?” Her finger was pointed now at Miller.

Clarke wondered if she’d believe her if she claimed that they were both her husbands (because, god, sometimes it felt like it) and she couldn’t stop laughing. 

  
  
  


MONTH NINE 

Clarke’s water broke ten days before her due date.

She knew that sometimes, with the first child, they could be very early or very late, so she wasn’t too shocked. 

Miller, she was pretty sure, just about had fainted when she told him. 

He bounced back quickly, however, pushing aside his panic. 

“I’m the one in pain here,” Clarke groaned as another contraction hit, “You just need to drive. Safely!” She snapped, recalling their last expedition to the hospital, “Dammit, why tonight?” 

“Okay, okay, okay...uh...right. You got all you need? Do you want some water? A jacket? What about-,” 

“Miller, freaking drive.” 

“Yep, yep. Got it!” He squeaked, staring at Clarke like he expected her to give birth in the car. 

“And get Bellamy,” Clarke said through gritted teeth, bearing down and groaning hard.

“Trying!” 

Miller parked very badly in the parking lot, helping Clarke in. 

“My gosh, Clake, is it time?” 

“Yes, Jackson,” Clarke puffed, “Call my mom too.” Jackson was a new transfer, one of her mother’s best friends. He moved due to a bad breakup and needed somewhere closer to his new apartment and Clarke’s unit was happy to take him. He was a fantastic doctor and it was nice to see a familiar face. 

“Clarke, I-,” 

“I’ve been warned about you,” Jackson said with a hint of mirth, pointing to Miller, “I’ve also met Clarke’s husband, so you’re not pulling the wool over my eyes.” 

“You don’t seem like the gullible type,” Miller replied, his voice warmer and...flirtier than Clarke had ever heard it? 

“Jackson, Miller. Miller, Jackson. Now, stop eye-fucking at the entrance. I’m having a baby,” Clarke hissed. She grabbed Miller’s hand, “Christ!” 

“Wow, strong grip,” Miller said weakly, face turning white. 

“Yep, got it. I’m calling your mom right now.” Jackson said, nodding to himself. 

Time seemed to speed up. Clarke could hardly recall the transition from the waiting room to the hospital bed, nor about her cries of need for an epidural, nor her mother arriving and clasping her fingers tightly to give Miller a reprieve. The next salient thing Clarke remembered was blinking up at Bellamy.

“When did you...when did you get here?” She asked, reaching for his face, sure he was a mirage. 

“Hey princess, you’re doing great. Our baby is almost here…” Bellamy said, kissing her forehead. 

Clarke raised her head, “Where...where’d Miller go? Did I break his hand?” 

“He uh…” Bellamy’s face turned bright red, “He tag-teamed out for me.”

“What?” 

“I was in the middle of going to a situation when he called. We just sorta...switched places?” 

“Bell, my god! Can you even do that? Are you going to get fired?” Clarke was 100% awake now. 

“That’s a tomorrow problem. He sure as hell didn’t want me to miss the birth of my firstborn,” Bellamy said, wiping the sweat from her face, “C’mon, Clarke. Let’s meet our daughter.” 

AFTER

“Miller? That you?” 

Miller sheepishly came around the corner with a ridiculously oversized bear and a bushel of flowers. 

“Everyone decent?” 

“Enough,” Clarke said, holding the less-than-24-hour-old baby close to her chest. From his sooty face, Clarke doubted he’d done more than wash off the best he could before running over here. 

“Nope,” Bellamy joked, “I’m completely naked.” 

“Oh, well, then,” Miller said, entering and closing the door behind him. His face was totally soft when he saw the swaddled baby, “Wow...it’s so...small. It already has your nose, Blake. Unfortunate.” 

“Miller!” Clarke chastised, “It has a completely normal nose. Don’t say such mean things.” She said, covering the baby’s tiny ears with her hands. 

“So, what am I gonna call my new and favorite niece?” Miller asked, popping into a chair near Clarke’s bed.

“Well...first off…” Clarke chuckled, “Bell owes you fifty bucks.” 

Bellamy muttered sourly from his chair.

“What?” Miller asked, utterly confused.

“Because second...meet your godson… Hadrian Nathan Blake.”


End file.
